


Between Firsts

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have experienced many first together, but none like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge: First Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just the prologue.... many chapters to come!

This was Sherlock Holmes’ first time being in love.

He was utterly confused by the loss of breath and the fluttering in his chest when John Watson was around. When they started solving crimes together, Sherlock was only vaguely aware of anything close to feelings for John. In fact, the only feeling Sherlock felt was annoyed by John’s ineptitude when deeper thinking was necessary.

But when the older man would lightly brush Sherlock’s hand when reaching for a petri dish or smile at him when a case was solved, Sherlock stopped whatever he had been doing. John Watson’s touch froze him like ice, but warmed his heart like an oven.

As time went on, these feelings for John only deepened. Sherlock knew he could never tell him. John would ostracize him, would withdraw from Sherlock in disgust. If that ever happened, Sherlock would die. He never let heart rule his head, but he couldn’t help it.

Sherlock Holmes could not remember having a weak spot, not once in his entire life. But he had one now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this very short beginning!


	2. First Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I edited and edited, but I still don't think it's as good as the prologue... still, tell me what you think! Also, a short POV from John.

 

_Sherlock's POV_

After showering and a bit of curl ruffling, Sherlock made his way to the kitchen. As always, his coffee was on the table and John was sitting in his chair.

“Good morning, John,” Sherlock said. He glanced up from his coffee to find John with his nose in the morning paper, as always. The older man sat with his left arm on the armrest, tapping his fingers in contemplation.

“Morning Sherlock.” John smiled up from the papers.

That smile. That _damned_ smile. Sherlock had every memory of John’s smile delicately placed in a glass box in his mind palace, and Sherlock went through them when he was a bit down. The ways John's eyes creased at the corners, the exact angles at which the corners of his mouth turned up, the glittering light that dance in his eyes...

Sherlock quickly shook away the thoughts before John spoke again.

“Oh, the blog post about our most recent case is complete. “Midnight Maven,” I called it,” John said. He sat the paper on the coffee table and replaced the empty space between his hands with his laptop.

_That should be me he’s holding._

_No._ Sherlock made his way to John in two strides and positioned himself so he could see.

“Looks good,” Sherlock mumbled as he scanned over the blog post.

“Good then. We have some folks coming in today , so pick out an interesting case.”

“Yes. I need something to do….. I’m _bored,_ John.”

_Bored…_

_***_

_John's POV_

“NO, NO, NO!” Sherlock raged, tossing a throw pillow to the ground as the last client rushed out of the flat. “NOTHING IS INTERESTING, JOHN.”

Sherlock continued to wreck the flat, whipping through like a whirlwind. John merely stepped in and made his way to his armchair, the storm that was Sherlock Holmes whirling right around him. “Be sure to clean all this up!” John yelled as an antiques vase crashed to the hardwood floor, shattering instantly. John cringed at the nose and opened his laptop.

“BORED!” was all John got in response.


	3. First Thought

Chapter 3

_John’s POV_

John had retreated to his bedroom in the midst of Sherlock’s mess. When he left the living room, it looked like a bomb had been dropped. This was normal, and Sherlock would clean it up… eventually. Sometimes that man left the flat a wreck for weeks at a time.

John opened the door to his room. A rush of chilly night air smacked him across the face, catching him by surprise. He looked to his left and saw that his window was wide open. He could have sworn he had closed it.

John walked over to the window and slammed it down. With expert fingers he latched shut the complicated window latches.

John’s room had a beautiful, unobstructed view of the London Eye on the bank of the River Thames. The glittering lights of the city were like a thousand stars that night.

_I swear,_ John thought, _I fall more and more in love with this city every day._

_I fall more and more in love with_ Sherlock _every day._

At first, John had only pitied him; Sherlock seemed to be a very lonely man, doing very lonely work. He moved in with him, and instantly life became more interesting for the both of them. John ran around with the younger man, helping him solve the most complicated cases. Every day brought new adventures and surprises, as well as new injured and dead bodies to examine.

But at the end of each day, as the rush of adrenaline subsided, John couldn’t help seeing Sherlock in his mind’s eye. He was tall and lean, with gorgeous green blue eyes that you could drown in. His cheekbones could cut ice.

John paced the area near the window before flopping onto his bed. He was completely unaware of the shadowy figure gradually making its way toward his window.

***

_Sherlock’s POV_

When Sherlock’s rampage was over, he surveyed his newly destroyed surroundings. The sight was oddly satisfying. Pillows were torn apart and strewn in various places on the floor; he had completely flipped his armchair upside down. The fridge was half open, a vial of amber liquid smashed and leaking.

He flipped his armchair back over and sat down. Sherlock didn’t see John; he probably went to bed as it was already 23:00.

Sherlock decided he was going to wait until morning to clean all this up. As Sherlock prepared to stand and make his way to his room, he heard an abrupt thunk from down the hall. A mangled yell followed, but it was quickly cut off.

Sherlock abandoned all other thoughts and sprinted to the doctor’s room. “JOHN!” he yelled as he busted the door open.

The bed was messy, unkempt, and….. _empty._ John’s window was wide open. Someone was here, and that someone entered and exited through it.

John Watson was gone.

 

 


	4. First Lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moriar...tea?

Chapter 4

_John’s POV_

The last thing John remembered before blacking out was hearing Sherlock yell his name.

_“John!”_ The terror that ripped through Sherlock’s throat was too much for him. John tried to call out to him, but he was gagged before he could finish. John was hit in the temple with a heavy object and he went out like a light.

He awoke in a plush leather seat. John was blindfolded, but he could tell that he was in a vehicle. Upheaved gravel crackled below tires, automatic steering audible in the steering wheel. John went to remove his blindfold, but found that his wrists were tightly bound in front of him. John tried to free himself, but he ended up banging his hands on the car door. The commotion stirred whoever was riding shotgun.

“John Haymish Watson.” The cockiness in the voice suggested that it could only be John’s captor speaking. His voice was honey smooth and dripping with what could only be amusement. It was also obvious that he was hiding an accent. “What a delight to see you again…. Even if _you_ can’t see _me._ ” A deep, hearty laugh filled the car, and John’s blindfold was tugged on from the front. He lurched forward and hit his head on the back of the seat. “I have some information for you,” said the voice, closer to his ear now.

“Information?” John inquired. “I don’t even know who you are! Why should I believe a word you tell me?” His voice broke, his nerves beginning to stir again.

“Because I know what you want, Watson.” His captor brushed away John’s questions. He continued, “I know how much you want him to love you.”

“He loves… _who?_ ” John was confused now. He was blindfolded and bound in the backseat of an unfamiliar car. Why was his captor speaking of love? “Who are you talking about?”

“Sherlock, dear, who else?” Yet another laugh. “He’s a smart man, Sherlock Holmes. He can deduce anybody without having met them before, but the poor man is baffled by human emotion. Sometimes I could swear he’s a robot, cold and cruel.”

John sat back in his seat. A small, weak, “What?” was all he could manage.

“Oh, you didn’t know? He adores you, _his adorable little John._ ” The voice became mocking. “I have a plan, John Watson. Sherlock Holmes needs to be unlocked, and you, my dear, are the _key._ ” The last part was drawn out, stressed.

The car stopped suddenly, and John’s blindfold was removed. His eyes widened, but then he thought he should have _known._

He was staring into the black beetle eyes of Jim Moriarty.

***

_Sherlock’s POV_

Usually the second an interesting case made its way to Sherlock’s hands, he wasted no time. But this time was different. Instead of a diamond or scandalous photos missing, it was John.

Sherlock dissolved into tears. John was his only weakness, or so Sherlock liked to think. It felt like the air was sucked out of him, he could barely breathe. He was on the floor of John’s room bawling when Mrs. Hudson came and found him.

“Oh, my dear, what happened?!” Mrs. Hudson was alarmed to see Sherlock in such a state.

Sherlock tried to explain, but he couldn’t get the words out. Every time he tried, he choked on his own tears.

“It’s alright dear,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I’ll just go make some tea. We can talk after.”

Sherlock was still on the floor when she left.


End file.
